


Tonight on 60 Minutes...not!

by Denise



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-16
Updated: 2012-08-16
Packaged: 2017-11-12 06:06:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/487564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denise/pseuds/Denise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another response to 'use the episode titles in a fic' challenge</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tonight on 60 Minutes...not!

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Disclaimer Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.

* * *

 

"Tonight on 60 Minutes: We spend **48 hours** taking a never before seen look into the secretworld of the SGC. This base, buried deep **beneath the surface** of Cheyenne Mountain, located just outside Colorado Springs, Colorado on Interstate 25 is one of the best kept military **secrets** in the world. Normally visitors are shot on sight, but not tonight. You will be **the first ones** , the first civilians allowed into this facility since **1969**."

"The hard working men and women on **the other side** of this blast door are lonely **sentinels** against the ever-present threat from an unnamed **menace** , an **enemy within** our own galaxy."

"All that and Andy Rooney, tonight on 60 Minutes."

"Welcome back. Let's begin our **show and tel** l here in the briefing room of the SGC. This is where all missions begin, where the **rules of engagement** are laid. And this door leads to the general's office, the leader of this base. No one crosses this **threshold** without the express permission of General Hammond. It is in this office where George Hammond struggles to maintain the **fragile balance** between **politics** and the **needs** of his people." 

"Right down these stairs is the nerve center of the SGC, the control room. Some have called this the heart and soul of the SGC, where **one false step** can result in a calamity of biblical proportions." The reporter paused in his voice over as people walked into the room, ruining his shot. Stupid civilians.

"What's going on, General?" a man asked, the fluorescent lighting illuminating the **shades of gray** in his hair.

"Reporters, colonel," the general answered, his tone menacing.

"Reporters? What happened to Top Secret, riddle wrapped in an **enigma** and all that?" The man asked, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels.

"They're paying us quite handsomely. Enough to keep us running for a **hundred days**."

"Paying? Really? Sir, I am NOT getting my memos. Do I look fat?" The man mugged for the camera.

"Colonel," The general reprimanded. "Why don't you show these men around?"

"Me, sir? Surely there are others around better suited….Siler, how about Siler? He knows this place like his backside…of his hand."

"There is a **summi** t with the **Tok'ra** scheduled for 2001 if you'd like to do that instead?" The rotund man offered with a knowing smirk.

"A tour sir. I LOVE tours. Happy to oblige, sir, all **in the line of duty**. So where would you like to go next?" The colonel clapped his hands together and raised his eyebrows at the reporter. "Oh I know. **The Tomb**."

"Tomb?"

"It's where we keep the **prisoners**. Do we have any prisoners right now?" The colonel asked a nearby SF.

"Aah. No, Colonel. The last **entit** y escaped remember?"

"Oh right. Smart kid, total **prodigy**. We unfortunately gave it this tiny **window of opportunity** and the next thing we knew it had reached the **point of no return** and was zipping it's way home to its **family**." He made flying motions with his hand.

"I thought you had something in place to prevent that. Some **fail safe** procedure, even a **deadman's switch**?" The reporter asked, wondering if he'd stumbled into the wrong place. This was the much-vaunted SGC? It seemed more like a day in the asylum. Maybe the man was on medical leave or something?

"Well you know, technically, but it was just a little alien invasion, not even bad enough to be called a **foothold** situation. I mean there was only one of them, no need for such **desperate measures**. Those have a way of backfiring and causing a **chain reaction**. The next thing you know you're out of the frying pan and **into the fire** or **between two fires** if it's a really bad day," he said. "I know, if we can't go to the tomb maybe we can go visit a member of my team. Come on."

He led the way up two levels, pausing, then backtracked at a **crossroads** in the tunnels. "Damn **upgrades**. That's why we have lines on the floor. I swear there are days when I don't even know where my office is. Although that can be a good thing. If I can't find it, neither can my **enemies**."

"Enemies? Aren't you being a bit dramatic colonel?"

"That depends on your **point of view**. Now Danny boy here, he swears that it's just a **matter of time** before I'm as nutty as **Urgo** , but what does he know? I mean, of all of us, he has a **legacy** of flaky stuff. He was sucked into this **crystal skull** once, and then of course there was the time he went gaga for **Hathor**. Now there's a **nemesis** for you. About the same way Carter fell for **Seth**. It's a **curse** really. Those kids might as well have **serpent's venom** instead of blood in their veins. Let me warn you though," he said, stopping outside of a door. "That old cliché, unlucky in love, lucky in cards…it's true. Do not play poker with these kids; it will not be a **fair game** let me tell you. Yo! Spacemonkey. Visitors!" he exclaimed, throwing the door open.

He hurried into the room and came to a stop beside a young man, taking a moment to noogie him.

"Jack, don't be an ass," the man said, shooting the older man a chilling look. "Who are these people?" he asked, peering myopically through his glasses. 

"No need for **pretense** Danny Boy. These are reporters. They're doing a story on me…us," he said, puffing up his chest. 

"Why?" the man asked skeptically. The colonel rubbed his fingers together meaningfully and made a soft 'cha-ching' noise. "Aah. Well. Ok. Fine. What do you want me to do?" the man asked.

"I dunno. You're good at this sucking…diplomatic stuff," the colonel shrugged. "Tell them some stories."

"Ok. Umm…Well there was this time when we discovered a planet that was a living example of 'The **Broca Divide** '…or all those times we've run into Thor. Teal'c got caught in **Thor's Hammer** and then there's this really cool ship these people call **Thor's Chariot** …they even named one after Jack but Sam blew it up. And then of course there's that **singularity** we came across, although I was on **holiday** when that part happened…and that time Jack was turned into the **tin man**. Ooh…and there were the **spirits** that took over the base. They liked Jack. Ooh and speaking of liking Jack, not only does Thor have a thing for him but this alien chick did. Snogged him right in front of us…boy he got it that time. Got the mother of all STD's…got all old and icky. It was a close thing, **there but for the grace of god** and all that. It's a miracle he didn't get snuffed out like a **brief little candl** e…though if he'd have kept his briefs on…"

"Yeah! Ok. Danny, enough of foibles **past and present**. These kind folks don't have **forever in a day** to spend here. Maybe I should take them along to Carter, see if she's got some **new ground** for them to cover," he said, giving the camera operator a push.

"But Jack, we haven't even got to the good stuff yet. I mean I still have toes to show to them." He sat back and held up his bare feet, ten exquisite didgets waving in the cool air.

Ignoring him, the colonel pushed the reporter out of the room, ignoring the covetous look on the man's face. If he had toes like that he'd be anchoring the news not reporting it. "Let's get you from within the **serpents grasp** huh?" he said, closing the office door. "Sorry bout that. I don't know what it is. You'd swear those toes are the key to **ascension** or something. You're **the fifth man** he's exposed himself to. It's starting to drive me **out of my mind**. I swear if I had **absolute power** I'd have his boots welded on. One set of those toes are bad enough but when he's running around barefoot like that, it's a real **double jeopardy** ," the man apologized, summoning the elevator. "We'll go visit Carter next. She's a lot safer. Just for God's sake, do NOT ask her HOW. She'll go off on a **tangent** and we'll never get out of there."

He led the way up a couple of levels then through more corridors, finally coming to a halt outside a small room lined with machines covered in flashing lights. "If she gets a little wiggy, just ignore her. Hasn't been the same since she picked up **Jolinar's Memories** ," he warned, plunging into the room. "Yo Carter! Hope you're decent, cause we have company."

"Colonel? What's going on?" A tall blond said, giving him a curious look, her huge blue eyes lighting the whole room. She was standing by a large high table shooting the reporters dubious looks over a large box sitting on the table. 

"These are reporters George invited. Why don't you tell them about a few things?"

"Such as, sir?" she asked cautiously.

"Ooh…how about some of our **small victories**? Maybe about that **Watergate** you found, or how you keep trying to spread **emancipation** and women's lib across the universe," he suggested, taking a seat by her and starting to fiddle with a couple of beakers on the table.

"Careful, sir," she said, taking them from his hands. "They're like **fire and water**."

"Huh?"

"They don't mix well," she explained, handing him a few paper wads, which he immediately started to juggle. "Low **learning curve** ," she muttered. "The **first commandment** of colonel management, keep his hands occupied. You should see what he did to the **touchstone** ; he thought it was a Rubik's cube…took Roham a week to fix it. So what do you want to know?" she asked, dazzling the cameraman with a bright smile. The light reflected off her teeth and made him dim the camera down lest she burn it up.

"Umm, what aliens have you met?" The reporter asked.

"The **Nox** , the **fifth race** we met, are the neatest. He wouldn't let me keep one." She pointed at the juggling colonel. "I mean it's the **torment of Tantalus** , I get to meet aliens all the time and never get to keep any." She pouted and the reporter felt his eyes tear up in sympathy. "This silly rule is the **bane** of my existence. I mean they get to sleep with aliens all the time and I never get one of my own. It's just not fair," she frumped.

Her lower lip started to quiver and her eyes to fill. "Major Carter," a voice called from the hall.

She turned her face to the door and the tears were replaced by a huge grin. "Oh Sargeant. You found one!" She enthused, getting up and pushing the reporter aside. She followed the sergeant, holding his wrench as he set down his cargo. 

"Bloody **beast of burden** for the officers," he muttered, snatching his wrench back and stalking out of the room.

She grabbed the box off the table and cradled it in her arms, sitting happily in the rocking chair the man had just delivered. "This is so perfect," she said, starting to sing under her breath at the box.

The reporter stared in amazement for a few minutes, torn between the rocking major and the juggling colonel, unsure quite of what was going on since they both were apparently lost in their own worlds.

"You are the reporters," a deep voice said from the doorway. The reporter spun to see a large black man blocking the doorway. 

"Aah yeah. What's up with those two?" He jerked his thumb at the pair.

"Major Carter is experiencing displaced **maternal instincts** while Colonel O'Neill's mind is unfortunately **scorched earth** ," he explained. "I was informed by General Hammond that you require a tour?" the warrior said.

Taking a last glance at the oblivious pair, the reporter turned. If he couldn't get a story one way, he would another. **Divide and conquer** they always say. "Sounds great. Tell me something about yourself," he invited hoping for some juicy revelations. 

"I am an alien. I carry a larva, what some refer to as one of the **children of the gods** , others call it a **demon** , inside my pouch, a place O'Neill colorfully calls a **serpent's lair**. I first met O'Neill and the then Captain Carter four years ago. After I saved them from a futile **last stand** , they led some people on an **exodus** from Chulak to a new world, one with a **red sky**."

"You…you have one of those things…. inside you?" the reporter asked, pointing at his chest.

"Indeed. I gained my Prim'ta through a rite of passage after prevailing on the **proving ground** of Apophis. It's **bloodlines** are long and distinguished," he said, his voice proud.

"So let me get this right? You're carrying around one of earth's archenemies? Why haven't they killed you yet?" The reporter asked, staring dubiously at the man.

"The script says they need an alien and they prefer **the devil you know** to one they don't. Junior, come out and say hi," he said, pulling up his shirt to reveal a pair of slits on his otherwise rock hard abdomen. The little creature poked its head out and trilled a bit before settling back in. " **Serpents song** ," he explained, lowering his shirt, much to the disappointment of the cameraman who was fast discovering if the SGC had nothing else, it seemed to be the perfect gathering place for people of good looks. No one here needed subscription for **meridian** that was for sure. "It prefers its **solitud** e," the large alien said. 

"Has that thing ever gotten you into trouble?" The cameraman asked.

"Indeed. I had to submit to a **Cor-ai** because of it. However it does have its advantages. I was immune to the plots of the **gamekeeper** and the tiny glow in the dark life forms that infiltrated this facility hiding like a **message in a bottle**. Is there anything else you require? The time is now **2010** and I must Kel-no-reem."

"Aah. No." the reporter said, shrugging his shoulders. They followed the large Jaffa back to the front gate then watched as he turned and descended back into the mountain. With the speed of practice they loaded their equipment. "I don't know about you, but this one left me **cold, Lazarus** ," the reporter said as the photographer started the engine. 

"Yeah I know. Dan got the cool one, he's on the set of **wormhole extreme** the lucky SOB," the cameraman muttered, driving down the mountain.

~Fin~


End file.
